Of Fire, Love, and Ashes
by Phoenix0725
Summary: Seven drabbles for MarcoAce week on Tumblr, one for each day of the event. Enjoy!
1. Fire

_**I actually went through with it! Ehm. Welcome, welcome, readers. Below, you will (hopefully) read the first drabble for MarcoAce week.**_

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The second he saw Marco get pierced by the blade was, admittedly, the worst moment in his life. Ace broke the neck of the Marine he was fighting and dropped the body to the ground, before starting to run towards the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was terrified.

Why?

Because after the sword was removed from Marco's back and the blond fell to his knees, there was no blue. No sign of the healing flames that had saved his life more than once. Instead, blood ran freely down his bare back, sinking into the dark fabric of his pants without showing a sign of ever stopping. One of the Vice-Admirals Marco had been fighting ran off to help his men, while the second one was attacked by Thatch, a pair of twin swords narrowly missing his jugular.

Ace paid them no attention, opting instead to catch the First Division Commander. He wrapped his arms around his friend, putting pressure on the injury, trying to stem the blood flow. Marco wasn't moving at all. He wasn't breathing, either. Ace gave his body the once-over, looking for whatever might be preventing the blond from healing.

A pair of seastone handcuffs on Marco's wrist glimmering in the sunlight quickly caught his eye. But he didn't have a key…

"Thatch! I need a key to the cuffs!" he shouted, in hopes that his friend could hear him. He put a hand to Marco's face, ignoring the fact that it was covered with the other man's blood.

"You're gonna be okay, Marco." The blond gave no sign that he could hear him. "Come on, you've been through worse than this… Marco?" Ace's voice was getting quieter with each word, eyes widening more and more in terror as what was happening finally sunk in.

"Thatch?!" he called out again, voice riddled with pain as he wildly looked around for the other man.

"Catch!" Ace looked in the direction the voice had come from, lifting the hand that was resting on Marco's cheek to grab the object flying towards him. His hand wrapped around what he made out to be keys to the handcuffs. He quickly shoved them into the lone cuff that was around the blond's still wrist and started fiddling with the lock. It clicked open easily, and dropped to the ground. Ace's hand instantly went to cup Marco's face again.

"…Marco?"

He received no answer. Ace let his arms drop to his sides as he stepped away and the blond fell to the ground before him. It was impossible. Marco couldn't have been killed that easily. There was just no way in hell that could have happened. It was all a dream… wasn't it?

Ace scrunched up his eyes tightly, before opening them again. Nothing had changed. Marco was still on the ground.

He couldn't hold back the tears that had gathered in his eyes. The salty drops of liquid cascaded down his cheeks, falling to the ground, where they landed on the sand beneath.

Marco was dead. There was no denying it.

At least that's what he thought until he saw those familiar blue flames engulf his body. Ace was forced to take a few steps back.

They were that same, vibrant blue color, intertwined with the slightest bit of yellow, which he remembered. They broke out over Marco's wound, and slowly started travelling all over the First Division Commander's prone form, spreading like wildfire, until Ace couldn't make out the body of his friend through them. They shone with a brilliant ferocity, each flame climbing higher into the sky than the last, illuminating the surroundings. Ace watched as the shadows around him danced with each and every flicker of flames.

Then, all of a sudden, a bird emerged from the depths, wings spreading from side to side, tearing through the flames, head twisted upwards, and the Whitebeard Pirates' symbol standing out proudly on its broad breast. The next second, the bird transformed into the First Division Commander, who slowly fell to his knees yet again.

Once more, Ace rushed forward to catch him before he could fall, embracing the now smiling man and hiding his face in the blond's shoulder. Marco didn't move away, but rather returned the hug gently. He ignored the new wetness on his skin, preferring to run his fingers through the hair of the boy before him.

"I-I thought you were dead." Ace sniffled, tightening his hold. The blond's body was still covered with blood, but the wound was gone. There was nothing left in its place, not even a scar to serve as a reminder of what had occurred.

"Hey, now. I won't die that easily." Ace pulled away for the slightest second, before moving forward once again to touch his lips to Marco's. The blond could feel Ace's desperation and despair as their lips moved together just as well as he could taste the saltiness of his tears. They separated, and dark gray eyes bore into Marco's blue orbs.

"Never do that again, you stupid chicken…"

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_**I would also like to say that I now have a tumblr account. The link is on my profile, so if anyone wants to check it out, please do ^^**_


	2. Cuddling

_**And here, ladies and (possibly also) gentlemen, you have a drabble for Day 2 of MarcoAce Week! I thank thee for all of thy reviews and favorites and follows, and hope that at least some readers will come back for more ^^**_

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Marco sighed as Ace's soft snores reached his ears. He turned his head to look at the boy lying next to him on the bed, facing the wall, and let his mind wander as his hand reached out to card through those black as night strands.

Ace was young. So, so young. _Too_ young for him.

Well, it was a little too late to think about that now, seeing as they'd spent half of the night having sex.

But Marco still couldn't get rid of the worries plaguing his mind. Ace was only 18 years old. And he was, what, over twice his age? Ace might easily change his mind as to who he wants to be with. He could go after someone his own age and forget about him.

It's what Marco was most afraid of. That he would be, once more, left alone. Slowly, he pushed himself into sitting position. The covers fell from his naked chest, gathering in his lap. He was about to throw one leg over the bed when a quiet moan reached his ears. He felt Ace turning under the covers to face him, but Marco didn't dare look at that beautiful freckled face he was so mesmerized by.

"Where're you goin'?" Ace muttered, voice weighed down with sleepiness. Marco sighed again.

"Nowhere in particular. Go back to sleep." He tried to stand up, but a hand around his stomach pulled him back down.

"'M not doin' nothin' till you tell me whazz wrong." Marco lay back down on the bed and turned to face the young Second Division Commander. His freckles were more prominent than usual, courtesy of the moonlight coming in through the porthole in Marco's bedroom. A few strands of hair had fallen over his face, and his eyes were constantly slipping shut. Marco reached out his hand to tuck those few loose lengths of hair behind Ace's ear and smiled as his lover hummed in approval. Ace moved to lay his head on Marco's muscled chest. In turn, the older man wrapped an arm around him, burying his face in that soft black hair.

"So? Wazz 'rong?" Ace asked again. Marco shook his head slightly. After a few moments he felt Ace shrug.

"I love you, Marco", he murmured in a moment of sleepy boldness_._

Marco's heart suddenly became much lighter. Maybe, just this once, he could enjoy being with a person he loved without thinking of the consequences that that love might have. His smile turned more sincere as he answered.

"I love you, too, Ace."

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**_Yeah... I have no idea what I did there... _**


	3. Modern AU

_**So many senpai reviewed my story! I feel honored Thankyouthankyouthankyou!**_

_**Anyway, here you have the Modern AU :D**_

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Ace gazed at the swirling water, 300 feet below where he was currently sitting on the railing of a bridge. It splashed against the rocks, leaving them soaked and slippery.

_This is it._

Ace took a deep breath and prepared to push off of the railing.

"You're going to jump?" He turned in the direction of the voice.

There was a man standing a few feet away to his left. Ace hadn't heard him coming. His blond hair was ruffled slightly by the wind, and his piercing blue eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. Ace met that gaze with a blank one of his own. No, blank wasn't the right word. His eyes were dead. Bottomless, emotionless pools of grey.

"What's it to you if I am?" He asked in a calm tone. The man shrugged, walked up to the railing, and leaned on it.

"Nothing, I guess. Don't you have someone to go home to?" Ace turned away, and looked back at the water.

"That's none of your business," he retorted. The blond hummed.

"No, I guess it isn't, is it?" The man looked up, gaze leaving Ace. "I like to come here to watch the stars sometimes," he said in a quiet voice. Indeed, Ace had to admit that the stars stood out. Pale, bright lights against the pitch-black fabric of the sky. In the distance, he could see blinking lights sent out by airplanes, and outlines of skyscrapers. The quiet of the night was only disturbed by the occasional sound of a car engine. "My name's Marco, by the way." Ace glanced at him again. The man had turned his head to look at him.

"Ace," he answered reluctantly. It couldn't hurt to give this man his name, after all, could it?

"Nice to meet you, Ace." Said boy clenched his fists on the railing so tightly, that the bones of his knuckles stood out against moonlight-bathed skin. "So, why do you want to jump?" Ace stayed silent for a few moments.

"Why do you want to know?" he countered. Once more, the man- no, Marco- shrugged.

"I just thought that maybe there's a story behind it." Ace didn't answer right away, wondering what he could possibly say.

"My brother, Luffy, moved to the other side of the country. We don't really keep in touch any more. It kind of feel as though I've lost him. My adopted grandfather, Luffy's biological grandfather, wants me to enlist in the Marines, and what I say completely doesn't matter. 10 years ago, my brother Sabo died, and I was partly responsible. My father was a despised criminal. My mom died right after my birth. I just feel that, whatever I do, I can never live up to anyone's expectations. That I can never be good enough." Ace chuckled wearily. There was more, of course, but he wouldn't just go spilling his _whole_ life's story to a total stranger. "Stupid, right? They're such little things… but I don't really feel like I have a reason to live anymore…" he broke off. Marco shook his head.

"It's not stupid. Sometimes, it's the little things that hurt the most." Their eyes met. Marco's- a vibrant blue that resembled the daytime sky, and Ace's- grey like the pavement Marco was standing on. "I don't think you should jump, though." Ace turned his face away to look at the water again. If it had been peaceful before, it certainly wasn't anymore. The water had started churning, and Ace could no longer see the jagged rocks below. Each oncoming wave was slightly bigger than the last. It looked as though a storm was coming.

"Why?" It was all he said. A simple question that conveyed all of his current thoughts.

"Because you're human. You deserve a chance at happiness." Ace's jaw clenched so hard, that he heard bones creak.

"You don't even know me…" he muttered. Marco hummed.

"Have you ever been to Hawaii? I heard it's amazing. There are lots of tropical plants you can't see in many other places. Or Europe? I, personally, want to go to Italy. I know people who lived there, and they say that the pizza and spaghetti…" Ace tuned out what Marco was saying as tears started gathering in his eyes. He was a complete stranger. He knew next to nothing about him, but he _still_ tried to convince him not to end his life, when most people wouldn't have spared him a second glance. The first tears slipped from his eyes and dropped down into the river below.

"How would you like to come to my house tonight? I heard they're going to be playing all of the parts of 'Die Hard' throughout the night. If you still want to kill yourself in the morning, I won't stop you." And, for the first time in a long time, Ace smiled sincerely. He let go of the metal his fingers were wrapped around and turned to get off of the railing. The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt… free. Cared about, for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling had didn't remember experiencing ever before. He gazed into those vibrant eyes for a minute or two.

"…Yeah. I think I'd like that."

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_**Why, oh why can I not seem to write anything happy?**_


	4. Angst

_**Aaaand another drabble :) I'd like to thank lunarshores for beta-ing my shitty story. U BE ZE BEZT!**_

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Ace slid down the wall in a deserted, out-of-the-way hallway. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and leaned his head against them. He tried to hold back the tears swimming in his eyes and clenched his jaw.

* * *

_"Because, Ace… I think I'm in love with you."_

_Ace stared at Marco in shock. That wasn't what he had expected to hear when the First Division Commander had asked to talk to him. Marco leaned forward to brush his lips against the younger man's. When Ace didn't move, stunned, the blond placed one hand on his cheek and the other on the nape of his neck to pull him closer, coaxing a response out of Ace. The kiss turned more passionate._

_That was when Ace's brain kicked in. He put his hands on Marco's chest, pushed him away and took a few steps back, looking at the other man with eyes filled to the brim with fear. He raised a slightly trembling hand to his lips. Fingers delicately caressed the place where, just moments ago, Marco's own lips had been._

_"I- I'm sorry. I can't."_

_Ace turned on his heels and ran out the door._

* * *

He didn't deserve someone as good, as untainted, as _pure_ as Marco. He _couldn't_. For most of his life, he'd been hated. Told he was worthless, meaningless. Unneeded. It was impossible for him to be with anyone. It had been hard to decide whether or not he should join this crew. This _family_. It had worked out in the end, but that didn't mean it always would.

Ace knew he would never be able to tell Marco everything and still be accepted. To reveal all of his secrets. He just couldn't see it happening…

Marco would definitely not accept him if he found out about his lineage. Sure, there were a few people who didn't care, but they were one in a million. It was unlikely he'd be able to find more, despite what Oyaji had told him.

He wouldn't be able to open up. And isn't that what you need in a real relationship? Knowing everything about your significant other? Sharing all of their joys, their worries, their _pain_? How would Marco ever be able to do that, if Ace couldn't tell him everything?

He was _worthless_. It would be better for everyone if he just wasn't around. He wouldn't be causing Marco so much pain.

He didn't know how long he stayed sitting like that on the floor. At one point or another, he might even have fallen into a light slumber.

He regained awareness when he heard footsteps coming his way. He didn't look up, instantly recognizing those heavy footfalls. The person- definitely Marco- sat down right next to him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," the blond stated. Ace shook his head, still not moving it from atop his knees.

"'T's alright. You didn't do 'nything wrong. I'm the one who's sorry," he mumbled. He could practically hear Marco turn his head to look at him.

"You don't have anything to apologize f-,"Marco started, but he was cut off.

"Yes I do! B-because I love you, too. I…I just… I can't do it! I can't _be _in a relationship with anyone!" He took a deep, unsteady breath. "If you knew who I really was, you wouldn't be able to accept me-" He broke off abruptly.

"Is that it? You just decided on your own that I wouldn't be able to accept you? Shouldn't that be my choice?" The moment Ace lifted his head Marco took his face into his hands. He flinched as the blond took in the sight of his red, swollen eyes. "I love the person you are, Ace. And nothing can ever change that."

Ace didn't move, his eyes searching the other's face for any sight of a lie. Coming up with nothing, he let them slip shut.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew…"

"Then tell me, Ace. What are you so afraid of me finding out?" It was now or never. Ace desperately tried to calm his breathing.

"M-My father… he was Gol D Roger." Ace waited for the inevitable, for the moment Marco would leave with a look of disgust on his face. Instead, he felt warm breath mingle with his, and once again Marco pressed his lips against Ace's own.

It convinced him more than words alone ever could. Ace stayed frozen in place, savoring the moment.

"Idiot. I told you- it doesn't matter…"

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**_See? It has a happy ending... No promises that it's gonna stay that way, though._**


	5. Dancing

_**I wrote something happier! Once again, thanks to lunarshores for beta-ing!**_

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Marco walked down the street. His nose caught the scent of delicious food, wafting out of many of brightly-colored food stalls.

He didn't know how Thatch had gotten wind of this festival, considering it was at least 50 miles away from home. And he didn't know why he had agreed to come here with him. Probably because Izo wouldn't have let him hear the end of it if he hadn't.

There was nothing overly interesting going on. Music was blaring from the speakers attached to the buildings. Marco couldn't even hear himself think over the sound of it, accompanied by people shouting.

It was getting dark now. Marco had no idea where Thatch had gone off to, and he didn't bother trying to look for him in the sea of people. He just kept on walking, hoping to find something that would catch his eye.

After a long while, Marco found himself seeing the last few food stalls. Beyond that point, there was the night sky, lit up only by the torches stuck into the ground to form a big circle, surrounded by people.

Intrigued, Marco rushed over there. He heard a woman reprimanding a crying child.

"Shh… the show's about to start."

He looked past them to see a young boy, no older than 15, walk around and start putting out the torches. When he was finished, he walked to the center of the circle.

"Hi, guys! I'm Luffy, and this is my brother, Ace." He pointed to someone far behind him. "Welcome to our Fire Dance!" The kid shouted, before turning on his heel and walking toward the back of the circle. Well, at least it was the back from Marco's point of view. Though, now that he took a closer look, it was the only part that was completely devoid of onlookers.

All of a sudden, he saw a flame come to life and a boy, probably no older than 18, walked out into the circle. He wasn't wearing anything but baggy black pants with a flame pattern climbing up one of his legs. Even his feet were bare. His face was illuminated by the torch he was holding in one of his hands. Gray eyes shone brightly, and his dark as night hair gleamed. He swept his eyes over the audience, and he bowed low.

When he straightened once more, Marco had to fight hard to tear his eyes away from the boy's rippling muscles.

Music began to play. It was soft at first. The fire performer lifted his right hand, the one with the burning torch, leaned his head back, and brought the flame to his mouth. Marco watched in shock as those delicate lips almost closed around the burning item. The performer removed it from his mouth a second later and proceeded to lift his left hand, in which, as Marco only now noticed, he held a second, unlit torch. He also took it into his mouth. Upon removing it, Marco noticed that it, too, was now aflame.

Ace turned around to face his brother, who had come forward with three more torches- one in his mouth and two in his hands. Ace started juggling the two he was holding, and one by one, Luffy threw the rest of the torches his way. Marco watched in awe as the performer threw them into the air and caught them once again with practiced ease. After about a minute of this, Ace threw the torches back to Luffy, who put them out as soon as he caught them and dropped them to the ground. The younger boy then proceeded to walk over to his brother and handed him burning poi*.

The music sped up, and once more, Marco watched, transfixed, as the dancer started waving them around to the rhythm of the song. The poi were swung in circles around the performer's body, and, in the light of the fire, Marco made out a sheen of sweat covering that toned body. The flames twirled this way and that as the dancer started moving. He swayed his hips and moved his shoulders up and down with each change in the poi's position. The balls of fire soared through the sky, weaving intricate patterns of red and orange.

As the music slowed down, Marco's eyes slipped down to the dancer's torso again. Ace's pants had slipped dangerously low, and looked like they were just barely covering his ass. Absorbed with what he was doing, the performer didn't seem to have noticed. Marco couldn't help but look on as, millimeter after millimeter, they slid down lower and lower.

And then the dancer stopped moving. Marco raised his eyes to look at that freckle-adorned face. Ace's lips were slightly parted, and he was breathing slightly heavier than before. The blush that adorned those cheeks was barely visible in the darkness.

He looked past Ace to see Luffy come forward again. Ace handed him the still-burning poi, and in turn, his younger brother gave him a bottle of… something, a burning torch, and a cloth.

Marco couldn't help but admire them for not being afraid of the fire.

Luffy went back to where he'd been standing for most of the show. Marco watched in slight disbelief as Ace opened the bottle and drank its contents. No, not drank. His throat didn't move, so he hadn't swallowed. Ace then put it down, so that he was left holding only the remaining two items.

He looked to be waiting for something. Marco noticed the music had almost completely stopped by now. When the last notes faded into the silence, he saw Ace tilt his head upwards and bring the torch up, about a foot away from his mouth.

He blew the liquid he had been holding in his mouth over the fire just as a dragon's roar sounded. The flame stretched for at least two yards up into the air, lighting up the night sky far more than any of the previous acts. For a while, all that Marco could see was the red and orange of the gigantic breath of fire. When it diminished and eventually subsided, he could once again see the performer, who lifted the cloth to his lips to wipe away the remains of the fuel. Then, he bowed.

People started cheering and clapping. Marco himself was only staring at the performer uncomprehendingly. The act had _far_ exceeded his expectations. Luffy walked over to his brother once more. He waved his hands a bit to encourage the crowd to quiet down.

"Thanks for watching the show! My brother never ceases to amaze me, either, no matter _how_ many times I see the show. See ya later!"

The people started leaving. Marco stayed behind to catch one last glimpse of the performer, before walking off in search of Thatch.

It was only an hour later, when he slipped his hand into his pocket, that he noticed that his wallet was missing.

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**_*Poi are a pair of roughly arm-length chains with handles attached to one end, and a bundle of wicking material on the other._**


	6. Fighting

_**This hasn't really been beta-ed yet, so... just bear with me? The beta-ed version should be up sometime tomorrow :)**_

* * *

Marco sighed as he walked up to the podium. He waved his servants away as he took his seat amongst others from the royal family. He looked around the Colosseum.

The crowd had yet to gather. Today was a special day. One that rarely happened. The emperor had decided to let each member of the royal family- which was quite large, mind you- qualify a slave for today's battle. The owner of the winner would be granted a handsome reward.

Marco had brought one of his most prized fighters. A man by the name of… hmm, well, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what his name was. Never really cared to ask. Or demand, really.

Someone sat down next to him. Marco looked up to see the smiling face of his brother, Thatch.

"Hey, Marco! Glad to see you could make it after all!" he shouted as he wrapped an arm around the blond in greeting.

"So am I, Thatch." Marco smiled in return.

"So, did you submit anyone to the fights?" the redhead inquired. Marco nodded quietly. "You know you're not going to win, right?" He actually had the audacity to smirk. Marco grinned in return.

"Says you. Do you really think you'll win that money?"'

"Well, why wouldn't I? I mean, come on! Look at me. Do I seem like a loser?" Marco sighed.

"If you were in that fight you'd be one of the first to die. And honestly, I seriously doubt your slave's going to win." Thatch pouted. _Pouted_. The expression looked almost comical on the 35-year-old's face.

"Well, why not? My slave's as good as any!" The corners of Marco's lips turned upwards.

"Maybe, but they don't have any experience fighting, unlike, let's say… the emperor's." The blond explained to his brother. "All your slaves do is field work." Thatch glared at him.

"So?" Marco opted to ignore him, and instead looked around the Colosseum once more. Most of the seats were full by now. There were at least forty thousand people present. The emperor had also come sometime during his and Thatch's exchange.

A few minutes later, the fight had begun.

Marco carefully smoothed his the material of his toga, as the slaves were released. It seemed a few people hadn't submitted anyone to the fights. There were maybe about 30 slaves running around in the maze of buildings that made up the arena.

No, not slaves. Now, they were gladiators. And there was one that particularly attracted his attention. He couldn't see much of what the man looked like from he was sitting, but he was able to make out almost sickly looking pale skin and longish hair tied into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall into his face and hinder him.

One by one, the slaves killed each other off. Not the pale man, though. He had kept conveniently out of sight for most of the battle, killing only one other man. Well, Thatch's slave, to be exact. He could almost feel his brother deflate beside him. His own fighter had been killed as well.

Now, though, with most of the arena stained with red and covered with mutilated corpses, he had no other choice but to get out of hiding and fight. Marco observed him as he came out from behind the building where he had been hiding and approached the other gladiator. The audience shouted for blood.

The gladiators carefully circled each other. The man Marco had been observing moved forward first. He gripped his dagger- as that had been the only weapon they'd been given, no armor- and ran forward with a speed that left many amazed. The other slave dodged the attack, and proceeded to try to trip the pale man. It didn't work, though, as he jumped over the foot that had been thrust his way.

The fight went on for quite some time, with neither man getting anything but a few scratches. The crowd was getting bored. Marco heard someone behind him ask for the lions to be released, to make the fight more entertaining.

They didn't have to, though. Because, when the older, bigger gladiator slowed down due to his exhaustion taking over, the black-haired man moved in for the kill. He slashed his dagger across the others throat. Blood gushed from the wound, the droplets staining the ground and both fighters' faces. The black-haired man pushed the other away from him in disgust and wiped his face, only managing to smear the red over his left cheek. The color contrasted beautifully with his pale skin.

An hour later Marco found himself approaching Marshall D Teach, another member of the royal family, to buy this one man who had managed to attract his attention.

* * *

_**And here is yet another plotbunny that seems to be mutating into something much larger...**_


	7. Random

_**I- I have no excuses *bows head***_

_**Beta-ed by lunarshores!**_

* * *

Marco opened the glass doors and walked into the brothel posing as a motel. The lobby wasn't large. Across from the blond stood a slightly cluttered desk, and to his left were a few armchairs, a couch, and a table with a small stack of magazines on top of it. On the right side were two big, surprisingly clean windows and a few potted plants that may or may not have resembled palm trees. There was a hallway leading further into the building beside the door behind the desk.

Marco walked over to the desk. He rang the bell and waited for someone to come. As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long. A gruff man soon appeared from the small room.

"Can I help ya?" he asked in a rough voice, eyes sweeping over Marco in suspicion. The blond pretended he didn't notice anything, and smiled politely.

"I'm looking for something special…" he answered. The man narrowed his eyes.

"I'll need to see some ID." Marco rummaged around in his pocket to take out his wallet. He opened the leather bound item. Sure fingers removed his driver's license. He showed it to the man.

"Will this do?" he asked. The man reached forward to take the plastic card from Marco. He looked it over carefully, before handing it back to the blond.

"Follow me," he said, before turning around and walking back to where he came from. Marco stepped around the polished wood of the desk and walked into the room behind it.

It was small and dim. The man had walked over to a bookshelf and reached behind a couple of books. Grubby fingers wrapped around what looked to be a medium-sized magazine. He turned around, gave it to Marco, and motioned for him to sit on the couch to his left.

Marco did as asked. He placed his legs on the coffee table before him, not caring that he would make it dirty with the mud on his shoes. The man eyed him critically, but didn't comment further.

"Call me when ya make up your mind." And he disappeared once again. Marco opened the magazine. Only it wasn't a magazine. On each page was a picture of a prostitute, and beneath that- a description of them and their "skills". Marco had never felt more disgusted in his life. He reached into his pocket and let his fingers slide over the cool metal of his police badge. It gave him comfort knowing he would bring in the criminal who had kidnapped all these young people soon. He flipped page after page, until he finally came to a stop when his eyes caught sight of a pale face adorned with freckles, bottomless gray eyes, and chin-length wavy black hair. The boy in the picture was glaring at the camera, but behind that mask of anger Marco was able to make out a healthy dose of fear. Or unhealthy, really. Depends on how you looked at the situation.

It was the boy they'd spent the last year and a half looking for.

Marco walked out the door to see the pimp sitting on a chair behind the desk, clearly waiting for him. Calming his nerves, the blond walked out to meet him.

He put the "magazine" down in front of the man and pointed to the picture of the boy he'd been looking at.

"I want him." The pimp looked up, obviously surprised.

"Ya sure?" the man asked. When Marco's eyebrows pulled together and the expression on his face changed into a slight scowl, the pimp quickly set about to telling him the price of the prostitute. "That'll be $300 per hour. How long do you want him for?" Marco had to fight not to show the sneer of disgust threatening to spill across his face.

"The whole night. About 8 hours?" Just in case his colleagues couldn't get here in time to shut down the illegal operation.

"That'll be $2,400." Marco took out his wallet again, and pulled out said amount of money. He could see the greed in the other man's beady eyes. He handed it to the pimp, who quickly started counting the bills. Once he had finished and made sure that he'd been handed the right amount, he reached for a key lying on the desk.

"Go through the room you just came from. On your left you'll see a staircase. Go downstairs. Room 21, right side, near the end of the hallway." Marco thanked the man and did as he'd been told.

The walk was a long one, but that may have been because of the fact that this was a police operation and he couldn't help the way his heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline making him see everything in hyper-clarity. If he gave himself away now, there would be nothing to stop the pimp from killing him- Marco hadn't brought any weapons with him.

As he walked through the hallway, he pretended he couldn't hear the noises coming from the other rooms. Pleasure-filled moans that pierced the air over and over again, accompanied by panting, made Marco want to place his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the sounds.

About a few dozen steps later, he'd reached the appointed room. Not bothering to knock, he put the key in the lock and turned it. Upon removing it, Marco grabbed the round doorknob and turned that as well.

The room wasn't what he'd been expecting. It was reasonably large, maybe 5 by 4 meters, and clean. On the right side he could see a door, probably leading off to a bathroom. It was also furnished. There was a bookcase, a dresser, a bed, and what looked to be a metal pole stretching from the ceiling to the floor. A stripper pole?

The boy who'd been sitting on the bed jumped when he walked into the room.

He looked so _young_…

He put down the book he'd been reading and gave Marco his full attention. The blond could see the fear and desperation clearly etched across his face. He moved to get off the bed.

"I'm here to get you out."

* * *

**_And with that, we've come to the end of the story! I hope you enjoyed reading these drabbles as much as I enojyed writing them! _**


End file.
